


The New Spooky Kids Bop

by CuteCat



Series: Fun-Filled Spooky Month [3]
Category: Friday Night Funkin' (Video Game), Spooky Month (Short Films - Sr Pelo)
Genre: Gen, Roy is a sore loser, mentions of Boyfriend (FNF), realizing the kids do a lot of searching in my fics, slight references to Pump's Solo Spooky Day, spooky kids being cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 06:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30017601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuteCat/pseuds/CuteCat
Summary: Skid and Pump come up with a new song! All they need now is someone to try it out on... But who?
Relationships: Pump & Skid (Friday Night Funkin')
Series: Fun-Filled Spooky Month [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2208207
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	The New Spooky Kids Bop

It all started during rap practice.

Skid and Pump always practiced their rap together near Skid’s house. They didn’t schedule it or anything; schedules were for things like school. If they felt like practicing, they practiced, it was as easy as that.

They had two songs they knew to rehearse, Spookeez and South, along with some smaller ones they didn’t _always_ practice but liked anyway. The true fun, though? That was the warm-up phase.

Trying to be serious and follow a set guideline all the time wasn’t their thing, so the first few songs they played were always silly, off-the-cuff things they’d never try in an actual rap battle. Sometimes they used other people’s songs, either repeating them from memory or mixing them together with one of their own tunes. The Lemon Guy’s songs were the most fun in this regard; since they had dark lyrics the kids couldn’t risk Skid’s mom overhearing, they would improvise their own lyrics as they went.

More often, they simply set up a backing beat (they had borrowed a small radio for this specific purpose) and then free-styled to it. The results were often terrible, but it was fun and got them into the groove so who cared about the quality?

Today’s warm-up was one of the latter. The first song was a mess as usual, rife with beats that didn’t quite flow into each other and rhythm changes that didn’t sound good, but there was a part in it that Pump clearly liked. He started the second song a bit more inspired, hoping to incorporate that one part again, and Skid easily picked up on his rhythm. Pump sang a few beats, passing the microphone to Skid who continued with a few notes before passing it back, going back and forth. As the song picked up so did their excitement, and the growing realization that this was _good._

The song was fast-paced, chaotic, and most of all fun both to sing and listen to. As soon as they were done the two set to work on refining it, smoothing out the rough edges and adding a little flair where there was none. They sang it again, delight filling their voices, confirming both knew their notes.

They knew at once, they wanted to tell someone about this song. They wanted to _rap battle_ someone with it.

They hadn’t even practiced Spookeez or South yet, but their practice session was instantly declared to be over. Pump hummed the new tune to himself, setting up a recording on the radio in case they forgot the song along the way, while Skid took out his phone and dialed the best (and only) rapper they knew.

Namely, the blue-haired teen named Boyfriend. Boyfriend could handle any song, keeping up with every tune the kids had made, and was always up for a new challenge. Skid waited impatiently as the dial tone beeped and beeped, his smile slowly fading as nobody answered. He hung up and re-dialed just in case, but got the same result. Boyfriend wasn’t there.

“What’d he say?” Pump asked, looking over as his friend hung up again.

“He’s not picking up,” Skid half-lamented, typing out a text message instead. Boyfriend could read it at his leisure and then come visit them for a rap battle whenever he was done with whatever he was doing. But they wanted to rap battle someone _now_ , so just waiting wasn’t an option. “Let’s rap with mum instead!”

Skid’s mom liked to help them with their songs when she could; she wasn’t great at actual rap battles, preferring to give feedback or lend an ear, but she tried and was always getting better! With Pump collecting their mic and radio, the two children sprinted into the house at full speed, right up to where Skid’s mom was sipping a cup of tea on the couch.

“Hey mum!” Skid called, causing her to flinch visibly. He frowned; that didn’t usually happen. Lowering his voice only a little bit, he leaned up on her lap. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” his mom reassured, rubbing her head. “Just a headache. What did you want?”

A headache! There was no way she could rap battle like that, she’d need peace and quiet. Skid faltered, but he couldn’t just say ‘nevermind’ and leave now that he’d started. Quickly he thought of an alternate request. “Can we borrow your mic?”

Pump nodded along, as in tune with Skid’s thinking as always. “So we can rap with people outside.”

“Sure, kids,” Skid’s mom smiled tiredly. “It’s upstairs. Just don’t rap with any strangers.”

“We won’t!” the kids assured in tandem, quickly darting off upstairs to grab the mic. And then, now wielding _two_ mics to go with their radio, the kids ran outside to search for an opponent.

* * *

As it turned out, knowing roughly one professional rapper did not make it easy to find an opponent who wasn’t also a stranger.

Skid looked down at his phone - it had been a while, but there was still no Boyfriend reply. He sent a second message, then turned to Pump. “Who else can we ask?”

Pump hummed thoughtfully, placing a finger to his chin before his eyes lit up. “Let’s ask Lemon Guy!”

Of course! The kids quickly began to search (Lemon Guy didn’t have a phone so they couldn’t call him), popping into the alley where they had first met their friend. They searched through it, calling Lemon Guy’s name all the while, but since they got no answer he clearly wasn’t there. So the kids searched the alley next to it, which was equally empty. The third alley had the always-funny and friendly Mr. Clown, who could provide his own circus music, but he was sadly incapable of rapping.

About five other alleys, the park, the old house on the hill, and just about every spooky place they could think of later, it was becoming apparent that Lemon Guy wouldn’t show up.

Skid pouted a bit, sitting on one of the swings to catch his breath. The final place they’d checked was the small playground where Pump had taught Lemon Guy how to swing not too long ago, just in case, but even that was a bust. No Boyfriend, no mom and now no Lemon Guy! How would they try out their new song if they had nobody to play it against? 

“Did you get an answer yet?” Pump asked as he plopped down on the swing next to Skid, having placed the radio and microphones aside.

“Not yet,” Skid replied, though he checked his phone again just to make sure. He tried to think; was there anyone else good at rapping…? “Do you think The Eyes can rap?”

“Uh, I think it’s a bit big to battle with,” Pump pointed out. Okay, fair point.

“Oh, what about your sister?” Skid suggested again, but Pump shook his head.

“She’s too busy with homework.”

“Oh.”

They sat there for a little while, swinging back and forth - Skid had forgotten how fun it could be to play on the swings. Finally he had an idea, leaping off his swing at the height of its arc and flying into the sandbox, landing on his feet. “I know! Let’s go to the mall!”

Pump faceplanted into the sand beside him, bouncing up to his feet. “That sounds fun.”

It was flawless logic. The mall had lots of people, so it’d have lots of non-strangers to challenge. And if they didn’t find anyone, it was a fun place to hang out! Collecting their rap equipment - one microphone each, Pump taking the radio - the two headed off.

They chatted with each other as they walked - about which shops may be open, what Boyfriend or Lemon Guy could be doing, how good random people they knew might be at rapping. They were discussing the vocal capabilities of Frank (the ice cream truck man) when someone harshly bumped into Skid, knocking him into Pump and snatching the mic right out of his hand.

“What are _you_ losers up to?” asked a familiarly mean voice and Skid looked up to see a trio of older kids - their leader Roy was studying the stolen mic with a big smile, his friends Ross and Robert just behind him.

“We’re going to the mall,” Pump answered carefully, backing up a step and half-hiding his equipment behind his back as the trio eyed him. Skid tried to take his mic back, but Roy was a lot taller and held it out of his reach. He tried again, hopping and even stretching up onto his tippy-toes, but the microphone remained too high up and while he was off balance the bully suddenly gave him a hard shove, sending him into the pavement.

“Oh really,” Roy mocked, grinning down at the duo as Pump moved to help Skid up. “Why, to sing ‘spooky songs’?”

“We’re looking for a rap partner,” Skid explained, rubbing his back a little. Come to think of it, Roy did rank high on their people-who-could-rap discussion, and he _was_ already holding a mic... “Hey, I know! We challenge you to a rap battle!”

“Huh?” Roy asked, giving the two a dumbfounded look that soon changed into a glare. “No way, why would I waste my time with _you_ two dumbs? I bet you can’t even rap!”

Skid glanced to Pump, silently wondering which of them should correct the bully on this point, but as it turned out neither had to. Ross and Robert were glancing at each other with uncertain expressions, whispering something between themselves, and that was enough to get Roy’s attention as he turned to the two. “What?”

“Dude, it’s just… Turning down a challenge?” asked Ross somewhat awkwardly.

“I think that’s losing by default,” added Robert. Ross nodded.

“What?! I could easily take those kids!” Roy protested after a moment of silence, taken aback.

“I know, dude, but...”

Roy growled, then spun back to face Skid and Pump. “Fine!” he barked, pointing a finger at the two. “You’re on. I’m going to kick your butts!”

Skid and Pump lit up with delight and quickly huddled together, discussing what song to play as they prepared the radio. Sure, they wanted to try their new song, but they didn’t _actually_ know how good Roy was at rapping and so starting off with a super difficult song might not go well. They quickly came to a decision; a quick explanation of the rules later, Skid started up Spookeez and skittered up onto Pump’s back.

“What are you doing?” Roy asked suspiciously. His friends backed up a little so as to not get in the way.

“This is how we sing!” Skid chimed. Pump had already begun to dance, so he followed suit to match the other kid’s tempo. Roy shrugged it off, and so the rap battle began.

Roy wasn’t a bad rapper, not at all, but he also wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t quite match the kids’ hectic pace, tripping up and missing notes, or fumbling his timing and getting completely off tune for some sections. Finally he stopped singing altogether, signifying his defeat before the song had finished playing, in favor of just yelling at the two.

“You’re cheating! It’s two on one!”

“But there’s three of you,” Pump replied in confusion, pointing to Ross and Robert who were acting as moral support, and Skid nodded his agreement. Roy glanced to his friends with a grumble.

“You two get over here,” he called, the two bullies walking a bit closer. Roy laid his arms around them and pulled them in close so the trio was crowded together, grinning triumphantly at Skid and Pump. “Let’s try this again.”

They started Spookeez over and battled once more, and this time Roy’s team did ... even worse. Unlike Skid and Pump the bullies weren’t synchronized at all, cutting off each other by mistake or breaking each others’ concentration all the time. One time Ross even leaned too far to the mic and pushed Robert off balance, which ended up breaking their rhythm so bad they missed half a verse. There was no real point continuing after that; Roy waved his arms to push the others back a bit, now visibly getting frustrated.

“That’s it!” he hissed, pointing accusingly at Skid and Pump. “I want another song!”

Skid found himself frowning. This was starting to give him a bad feeling, and he didn’t want Roy to get so mad he broke the microphone - it was his mom’s after all, and he didn’t know where she had bought it or how much it cost. “Okay, but if we win next time you have to give the mic back!”

“Fine.”

A bit more at ease, Skid looked down to Pump. This just left the question of what to sing. After all, Spookeez was the easiest song they knew, so if Roy couldn’t keep up with that then what _could_ he keep up with?

Although if they lost, Roy would probably keep the microphone forever, which would be bad. With this in mind the two ended up picking one of their lesser-used songs, one that was a little tougher than Spookeez but easier than South, and the song battle began anew.

They hadn’t practiced it in a long while so Skid and Pump made a few mistakes, messing up their rhythm, but they knew how to recover and stayed ahead by a good margin. Roy wasn’t doing as well; he tried, of course, but he quickly seemed to realize that the new song was more difficult and he wasn’t getting any happier. Then, during one of Skid and Pump’s turns, they were suddenly cut off by the loud, jarring sound of Roy throwing his microphone at the asphalt.

A shocked silence hung over the group for a few moments as the microphone rolled to Pump’s feet, the radio merrily playing its background beat. Then Pump leaned down and picked it up, confirming that it wasn’t damaged while Ross and Robert hurried over to comfort Roy.

Skid tried to think of something to say. Sure, the bullies were kind of mean, but he still didn’t like seeing them so upset about losing. Besides, he didn’t think Roy had done _that_ badly, certainly not bad enough to warrant giving up like that.

“It’s okay,” he called to the bullies, trying to reassure them. “You’ll get better! You just have to match the beat!”

“The beat?” asked Roy, annoyed gaze snapping straight to Skid. He strode toward the duo, cracking his knuckles. “Oh I’ll show you a _beat_ , alright.”

… Uh-oh. As Pump started backing up Skid held on tight to his head, getting the distinct feeling that Roy wasn’t talking about rap anymore.

* * *

As the bullies walked away, leaving two rather beat-up kids behind, Roy at least seemed to feel much better. Sitting in the grass next to the sidewalk Skid rubbed his head, trying to ease the soreness filling his skull. Was this how his mom felt right now? He sure hoped not.

Pump was lying in the grass beside him, doing his best imitation of a dead possum. They got off light, all things considered - sure, they hurt and there were definitely gonna be some bumps and bruises, but Roy hadn’t broken any of their belongings and his friends had calmed him down before long. Skid thought he heard them talk about going to get ice cream, which was a great way to pacify anyone.

He wished he had ice cream. He’d suggest to go get some with Pump if the bullies weren’t probably at the ice cream truck.

“Hey, Pump,” Skid spoke up, flopping onto his back and looking up at the star-dotted sky. Roy had been pretty high on their list of good rap candidates, but he hadn’t been even close to the skill level they wanted. “What if there’s no good rappers at the mall?”

“I dunno,” answered Pump, ceasing to look dead.

Skid wished they had a good way to tell, one that didn’t require playing some other song beforehand. If only they didn’t need other people to rap! There was no way they could hold a rap battle with just Skid and Pump, a battle required two parties and …

Wait.

Skid shot up to a sit, wide-eyed. “Pump, we can rap battle each other!”

“Huh?” asked Pump, sitting up. “But we always rap together. We’re a team!” He then thought about it for a moment, putting a finger to his mouth. “But it would be good to rap on my own… In case one of us isn’t around.”

“Yeah, and we wouldn’t have to ask others to help test songs!” Skid nodded. Why hadn’t they thought of this before? They even had two mics, one for each of them! Pump nodded in agreement, ready to go.

… Of course, both kids were sore and Skid a little dizzy from being beaten up, so they took a quick rest before setting things up. They chose a good spot in the grass and stood across from each other, determining who would start through rock-paper-scissors. Skid lost (mostly because his thumb gloves meant he couldn’t do scissors) which meant he’d go second.

As Pump started the music up Skid quickly tried to go over the tune in his head, but he had trouble recalling all of the notes. Maybe they should have practiced a bit more? Though since he went second, he could always rely on Pump to set the tone.

Except when Pump did his part, Skid couldn’t help but notice he stumbled on several notes. It was strange to hear his friend do so badly, but before he knew it Skid’s turn started.

Being used to tossing his mic to Pump every few notes made it way harder than it should have been, even without the awkwardness of not sitting on his friend or the headache that had yet to fully vanish. Skid did his best, but it felt like his turn was stretching on and on and he missed some of the notes entirely in his efforts to keep up. Doing a whole segment on his own wasn’t something he was used to, and he started to somewhat understand how fighting two-on-one would be considered cheating.

And then it was Pump’s turn again. It was obvious that he was struggling with the same thing - his spooky dance swayed a bit too much, trying to account for a weight that wasn’t there, and he tossed the mic between his hands as a substitute for tossing it to Skid. This time Skid was sure his friend missed some notes, but no matter; it was his own turn again and he had to keep up. He tried adding in the missed notes but they were completely off rhythm, which messed up the following notes as well.

Before either one could fully get a hang of it the song came to a close, the kids simultaneously falling to a sit without knowing who had won. Skid wasn’t sure if it was the lack of solo rapping experience or the newness of the song that caused the most trouble, but either way, it was fun. Tiring, but fun.

As they sat there, catching their breaths, a ‘ding’ rang from Skid’s pocket and he fished out his phone to find that Boyfriend had finally responded. It said something about how he was too tired to rap at the moment because he got absorbed by a dating game, which was a little hard for Skid to understand since he had a girlfriend already and dating games didn’t seem that fun. More importantly though, the message ended with the suggestion that they rap battle the next morning!

“That sounds good,” said Pump, who was reading the message over Skid’s shoulder, so he quickly sent a reply agreeing to the battle and then looked up at the sky. It was already dark, so how far away was morning? They’d need plenty of rest.

“Let’s go to my house,” Skid suggested, climbing to his feet and picking up the radio. As the two began to walk home, his thoughts were already abuzz with ideas. They were both tired and sore and they still needed to practice, so Pump could stay the night! And they could listen to Pump’s recording from earlier, to remind themselves of how the song was supposed to go, and then the next morning they could head out right away to practice their new tune, and then meet Boyfriend and have a fun, proper rap battle!

He was sure they would practice singing against each other, too, but more than anything they were best friends and best friends sang together.

The next day would be a fun one, too, just like today and every day the kids were together. He looked forward to it!


End file.
